Ain't No Rest For the Wicked
by UnattemptedFeat
Summary: Grace hadn't ever even met her father's criminal consultant. But when Judas, a dangerous thief, escapes from prison, he's coming after Grace. Peter needs all hands on deck to keep her safe.
1. Threatened

**Author's Note** **: Hey, good peoples! I hope that everyone is doing well tonight.**

 **Okay, any of you who have read any of my Supernatural, Sherlock, or X-overs fics know that I love my OCs. And it's true, I do. I love Kat and Lennox, and Elizabeth is my favorite OC in the entire world.**

 **And now they get a new friend! Yeah! Hooray! We love friends!**

 **Give it up for...Drumroll please!**

 **Grace Melanie Burke.**

 **She's fifteen and the only child of Peter and Elle. Tune in for her adventures with Neal, Mozzie, Peter, Jones, Diana, and more!**

 **This starts in early season one.**

 **Is it bad that I can't stop making OCs? I just enjoy putting girls my own age into a life I would love to have. I would like to imagine how someone like me would react in certain situations. I hope that I do justice to my own dreams. And I do try to make my OCs as realistic as possible. I try to give each of them quirks of their very own.**

 **Without further ado...**

Grace looked up when the front door opened. A man in a crisp, blue suit walked into the living room. When he saw her, he looked a little surprised.

"I'm waiting for Peter," the man explained. "He told me to come here and wait for him before I went to the office. I don't think I've met you. I'm Neal Caffery."

Grace shook the hand he offered, "I've heard a lot about you, Neal. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Grace Burke."

"Are you Peter's daughter?" Neal asked. When she nodded, he said, "I had no idea he had a daughter. How old are you?"

"I'll be sixteen next month," Grace answered. "My dad should be back soon. He didn't tell me you were coming."

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you rather I waited outside since you're the only one here?" Neal asked her politely.

"Why does it matter if I'm the only one here?"

"Well, I mean, I'm criminal technically," Neal explained. "I could be dangerous."

"Like I said, I've heard a lot about you," Grace told him. "I know that you don't like violence, especially guns. I know that you went to prison for art crimes, nothing to do with physical harm to another human being. My dad knew I was here alone, and if you were in any way dangerous in his eyes, he would never have let you anywhere near me."

"That sounds about right," Neal agreed.

The front door opened again, and this time Peter Burke strode into the room.

"Good, Neal, you're here," Peter looked a little frantic.

"Peter, what's going on?" Neal asked, becoming serious.

"Judas escaped."

Grace stifled a gasp. Trent Jackson, AKA Judas, had robbed a string of art galleries around New York. He had killed four curators and six security guards before he was finally caught by Peter.

"And," Peter continued, "he left me this." Peter held up his cell phone for Grace and Neal to see.

The screen showed a photo taken of a note. The note read:

 _Agent Burke,_

 _You put me behind bars and ripped my life from me._

 _Watch yours fall apart around you._

 _Guard your Grace well._

 _See you soon,_

 _Judas_

"Grace, you're going to come with me and Neal to the FBI office. Jones is on his way to get Elle right now too. You two will just have to stay there for awhile until we can apprehend Judas. Go pack some clothes and stuff." Peter ran his hands through his hair.

Grace obeyed. She blindly threw stuff into a bag.

All the while she was thinking. Obviously Peter had sent Neal to the house, knowing that Grace would be alone, to watch her until he could get there. This must be huge. Grace knew that Judas was a big deal, but now he had threatened her. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. It almost didn't seem real.

As Grace was about to leave her room, she noticed something she hadn't before.

There was a blur of white on her windowsil. Grace set her bag on the floor, going to investigate. Her window was open, and a slight breeze blew in, causing a piece of paper stuck into the window to flutter. Grace shut her window quickly with a snap. She definitely hadn't opened it, she hated drafts that made her door slam shut. Freeing the paper from its captivity, she grabbed her bag and raced downstairs.

"Dad!" Grace dropped her bag by the front door and hurried into the kitchen. She showed Peter the note. He read it aloud:

 _It would have been so easy._

 _So easy. Too easy._

 _All I would've had to do was take her._

 _No one was here. She was completely alone._

 _Vulnerable, weak, and unprotected. It would've been so easy. Too easy._

 _I itched to take her. I itched to make you hurt. But I will wait for the right moment._

 _Do what you think will keep her safe. Just know, Agent Burke, that there isn't anywhere you can hide her from me. There is nowhere where I cannot reach her._

 _There is nowhere to hide her. You might as well just give her up to me right now._

Peter crumpled the note into his fist angrily, "I am going to catch Judas if it's the last thing I ever do."

"Dad, it's going to be okay," Grace was surprised that she didn't feel scared. Again, she contributed it to the danger having not fully sunk in yet. Still she resolved that, when she did feel the fear start to crash down, that she wouldn't let it overwhelm her. She would be brave.

"Peter," Neal said soothingly. "We can protect her at the FBI. Nothing's going to happen to her. We are going to catch Judas, and then she'll be safe."

"Let's just go," Peter clenched his fists and led the way out of the house.


	2. Calmed

**Author's Note** **: Hola, mes amis! I hope that everyone is doing well.**

 **I was recently reminded just how smart White Collar is, how gorgeous Matt Bomer is, and how much I like Neal and Peter's relationship.**

 **Without further ado...**

Grace was silent as she followed Neal and Peter into the FBI. Almost every agent she passed gave her a sad smile. She guessed that a lot of them probably knew about Judas' threats.

Strangely, that made her feel more uncomfortable rather than supported. It felt like the time that her entire school had known that she had kissed Roger Bradley behind the bleachers. Like everyone was staring at her and talking behind her back.

 _Oh, there goes Grace Burke. Poor thing, she must be terrified. I don't know how she's holding it together._

Feeling a surge of courage, Grace held her head high as she walked through the FBI. She wasn't going to let them see anything but a confident, brave, young woman. Even if it wasn't quite what she was really feeling, the adults didn't need to know that.

Neal dropped back to walk beside her as they strode out of the lobby.

"I was going to ask how you were doing," he said quietly, only meaning for her to hear. "But I'd guess that you wouldn't be honest until you were out of the sight of the adults. You know that you don't have to put on a brave face for them? Lots of people come through here that need help."

"That doesn't mean I have to be one of them," Grace replied determinedly. "I will not become a victim. I will be brave or die."

"Noble," Neal remarked, glancing sideways at her. "You're being brave for Peter because you know he's already at his wit's end."

"Precisely," Grace answered as they walked into the elevator.

Grace could tell that Peter was definitely having a hard time keeping it together. He was clenching his fists throughout the whole elevator ride.

They got off at White Collar, and they walked into the division.

The first thing Grace noticed was her mother. Elle was upstairs in what looked like a conference room talking to Jones and Diana. Elle was gesturing widely; she looked a bit hysterical.

"You two wait here for a minute," Peter said softly. He headed upstairs to where his wife was.

Neal headed to what Grace assumed was his own desk, and she followed, sinking into the desk chair beside his.

"Poor Mom," Grace muttered, spinning around in the chair.

Neal balled up a piece of paper. He offered it to Grace, "Would you like to throw this to blow off some steam?"

Grace took the paper and looked around the room, "Bet you ten bucks I can hit Agent Smalls in the head?"

"You're on," Neal smiled.

Grace zeroed in on her target and threw the paper. It sailed through the air and whacked Smalls square in the back of the head.

Agent Smalls looked up with a cry. Grace and Neal quickly became absorbed with a file on Neal's desk. Ah, mortgage fraud. Interesting.

When Agent Smalls gave up with sigh, Neal slid a ten dollar bill to Grace. She pocketed it with a smirk.

Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out instinctively. She clicked open a message from Matt.

 _Hey, a bunch of us r meeting up at Leo's 4 GTA. Want in?_

Grace looked down at the message. It wasn't like she could say _Hey. Sorry can't, I'm currently being hunted by a dangerous killer. But we should definitely hang out later_.

Neal peeked over her shoulder, and he glanced at her sympathetically. "Grace, I'm sorry you have to go through this. But we will catch Judas, I promise."

Grace slept her phone and set it on Neal's desk. Right now, it was a reminder that real life was passing her by while she was caught in a nightmare.

All of a sudden, everything came crashing down.

Realizing she was about to lose it, Grace stood quickly and left the division. She strode down the first hallway she came to and ducked into a random, empty office.

Grace closed the door behind her, hoping that Agent Jeffrey Summers (he had a nice name plate on his mahogany desk) wouldn't come back anytime soon. Grace crossed behind the desk and slid to the floor.

There was a psycho killer after her. This was happening. This was her life.

Grace flinched, waiting for the tears to flow, for the sobbing to overtake her. When it didn't, she was confused. A minute ago, she had been positive she was breaking down. Grace had taken off from the middle of the White Collar division because she thought she was going to crack under the pressure. Now that she was finally somewhere she could break down, she found that she couldn't.

Something had to be wrong with her.

Grace was just about to leave the office when a noise just outside the door caused her to freeze. The office door opened and someone shuffled in. Grace shrank down behind the desk, hoping whoever it was wouldn't see her.

No dice. A man in a custodian's uniform came around the desk, probably looking to empty the overflowing wastebasket. He stopped with he saw Grace.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the man looked down at Grace. "Um, are you okay? What are you doing in here?"

"I was just..." Grace couldn't think of any reason. "I'll be going." Grace used the desk to pull herself to her feet.

"I don't mean to kick you out or anything," the janitor said quickly. "If you'd like to talk or anything...?"

Grace had no reason to trust this man. She'd just met him. But hey, he was the janitor in the FBI building. They ran background checks, right?

"Do you ever get the feeling like you need to break down, but then you can't?" Grace shook her head to clear it. "No, sorry. That probably didn't make any sense."

"I understand," the man smiled knowingly. "It's like you know you need to deal with your feelings, but when you think you're ready to, they won't come to light. It's like they will only show when you can't handle it at the time. Does _that_ make sense?"

"Yeah, it does," Grace could see the weird, strange logic in that. "Hey, thanks. I should be going. It was nice talking to you."

"You too," Grace left the office feeling better than she had when she ran in.

The janitor was right. Emotions were weird like that. It actually made sense that her feelings would only surface when she least expected them to. When her walls were down, that's when she would crack.

So all she had to do was keep her walls up.

Grace walked confidently back into the White Collar division. Neal was right where she'd left him five minutes ago.

"Are you okay?" Neal got up to meet her at the doors.

"I'm fine," Grace said honestly. "Just needed a second to ground myself."

"Sure," Neal scrutinized her. Grace was happy to know that he wouldn't be able to discern any tear tracks or redness from crying. Because she hadn't cried. Not one tear.

"Grace, Neal," Peter gave them the double-fingered point. They started up the stairs to where he waited.

"They teach that at Quantico, don't they?" Grace remarked as she and Neal climbed the stairs.

Neal chuckled, "They sure do."

Grace and Neal entered the conference room.

"Oh, sweetie," Elle charged for her daughter, sweeping her into a hug.

"Mom, it's going to be fine," Grace rubbed her back quickly, a little embarrassed that Neal, Jones, and Diana were seeing this.

"I know, I know," Elle pulled away. "Your father and his team are going to catch Judas."

"Speaking of," Jones clicked a button on the remote that he was holding. Grace turned to see a TV situated on the other wall. "this is our most current picture of Judas." Grace gasped.

It was the janitor.


End file.
